


Coach

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Series: The Supportive Parent Collection [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Acceptance, Childhood, Coming Out, Family, Father Son Relationships, Gen, M/M, Supportive Coach, coach loves dicky, jack and bitty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: He always knew Dicky was different. Not bad different, just not like the rest of the boys in the neighborhood.A glimpse into the relationship of Coach and Dicky Bittle, and how Coach comes to terms with it all.  It's sweet, I promise.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devereauxs_Disease](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/gifts).



"So, Dicky. Do you want to watch a movie?"

Coach was happy to have Dicky at home. His visits had become far and few between, a rare thing, ever since… well, recently. Suzanne was out with her bowling league, so it was just the two of them for the evening.

"Sure, Coach. What do you wanna see? I think _Predator_ is about to start," Bitty replied as he grabbed a bag of Brother Kane potato chips from the kitchen and settled into the couch. 

He then took the remote and was browsing through the channel guide. 

“Also _Rocky III_ is on, uh… _Casino_. What else…” 

Richard watched his son and smiled listening to the movie choices being offered to him. 

He always knew Dicky was different. 

Not bad different, just not like the rest of the boys in the neighborhood. When he was younger and the other coaches had their boys in pee wee leagues (already drilling the eye on the prize mentality into their heads: "One day you'll be the star quarterback, son!") he would look at Dicky and sigh knowing that wouldn’t be his son’s fate. 

And he made peace with it, for Dicky was always kind, always helpful, always wore a smile on his face and a smudge of flour on his cheek.

When Dicky started skating, Coach decided that was almost as good. He was strong and talented. Hell, his boy would be the best skater in the greater Atlanta area. And skating made him happy, damn it.

So Richard coached other people’s sons on the finer points of football with all its bravado, ass slapping and growling, and would then come home and hear Dicky and Suzanne excitedly talk about his new routines, and whether or not he should skate to the Phantom of the Opera or Ravel.

After the bullying incident, something hard grew in Dicky. Suzanne was the first to notice it. Then Coach did. He still smiled, and still helped people, and still baked, but there was a definite hardness underneath it all.

It broke Coach’s heart, more than anything else had ever broken his heart. But how could he talk to Dicky about it? Conversation and healing was in no playbook he had ever studied. He was useless in that regard. So he watched his son hurting from afar.

And one day, hockey came into Dicky’s life in the most unexpected of ways. And that hardness he had seen in him began to melt away. Dicky’s smile was real, and there was joy in it once again.

“Mama! Coach! I got accepted to Samwell! With a full athletic scholarship!”

Suzanne cried in their bedroom that night, worried for her baby, worried that he would be lost or not taken care of.

“Now, now, Suzanne. It’s his decision and he’s so damn happy. I think this will be good for him.”

“But how can it be good for him, if he’s away from us?” she cried.

Dicky left, and Coach was proud at how easily his son had thrown himself into college life, how he was part of an NCAA team, how he scored against Yale. Yale! Take that, you yankees.

“How’s your boy, Coach?”

“Good. Damn good! He’s playing hockey with Bad Bob Zimmermann’s son -- you know that?”

Everyone knew that, because Coach told any and everyone who would listen. Of course, he couldn’t tell Dicky any of this. How to tell your son you’re proud and you love him was in no playbook he had ever studied. 

One evening in bed, after a long phone call with Dicky, Suzanne sighed quietly studying the shadows of the branches on the bedroom ceiling coming in through the window.

“What is it?”

“I think Dicky is seeing someone.”

“Yeah? He say so?”

“No, but I know him. And he’s -- well, he’s happy. Very happy.”

“Ain’t that a good thing? What are you worried about? That you won’t like his girlfriend?”

Suzanne exhaled once and said, “Oh, Richard.” She then rolled over and went to sleep.

Coach was the one who then stayed up and watched the branches’ shadows for awhile.

It wasn’t until Dicky came home for his Moo Maw’s 76th birthday party weekend and Coach noticed how he’d smile into his phone, and send texts as though his life depended on it, that he realized his son _was_ seeing someone. And whomever it was, was important. Very important.

And when the doorbell rang on the evening of Moo Maw’s party and Dicky was shocked to find Jack Zimmermann on the other side of the door, did Coach really begin to see everything.

“What are you doing here?” Dicky said to Jack, as Jack smiled brightly at him. 

“You said you wished I could come, and here I am.”

“I was kidding -- I mean, I’m thrilled, honey. But I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

They hugged briefly, then Dicky dragged Jack by the sleeve into the living room. 

“Suzanne. Coach. Great to see you again,” Jack said extending his hand.

Suzanne pulled him into a deep hug, “Come here, you sweet boy.”

“Moo Maw, this is my very good friend, Jack.”

Coach watched them, and he knew. He knew the way he knew when a football would be released into a perfect spiral, the way he knew when his ribs on the smoker were done, the way he had known Suzanne was the one. 

He just knew, but he didn’t say a word. 

This was definitely in no playbook he had ever studied. And time continued to move forward the way it has a tendency to do.

“So, what movie do you want to see?” Dicky asked, crunching into a chip.

And Coach looked at his son, what a fine man he’d grown up to become. How filled with love and light and talent he was. How Jack Zimmermann should thank his lucky stars that his boy loved him. Lord knows, Coach realized, NO ONE deserved his Dicky. 

And since none of this was in no playbook he had ever studied, he decided that sometimes the best play was the most unexpected and unrehearsed one. A Hail Mary in parenting, because while he didn’t know what the hell to say, he knew he loved his son, so he would just go for it.

“How about that one with Robin Williams. That Bird one?”

“ _The Birdcage_?” Dicky asked.

“Sure, you like that movie-- don’t you?”

“Coach?”

“It’s a...it’s a good movie, son. I like it. I like it a lot.”

Bitty stared at his father, and studied him intently.

Coach looked at the floor and said, “The son loves his gay father -- and well, they’re a family. And that’s what… that’s what families do.”

After a while Coach looked up at Bitty, who now had tears streaming down his face. Bitty didn’t say a word, but merely nodded.

“He’s a good boy, Dicky. I can tell he loves you. And… and you love him.”

Bitty nodded and wiped the tears from his face, still unable to speak.

“So, how about we rent that movie? That Robin Williams. He’s good in everything.”

Bitty sniffed loudly, and wiped his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. He sat next to Coach and offered him some chips.

“Thanks, son.”

“Thanks, daddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say hi [on Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/post/155971889599/coach).
> 
>  _Check, Please!_ characters created by the wonderful [Ngozi](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/).


End file.
